


Consolation Prize

by mesozoic



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, absolute codswallop, literal crap
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-20
Updated: 2016-07-05
Packaged: 2018-06-09 16:31:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6914740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mesozoic/pseuds/mesozoic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a reason we rehearsed this: Marinette bungles up a very important sentence.</p><p>[author on holiday until august sorry folks]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“…Chat Noir.”  
Adrien’s eyebrows disappeared beneath his hairline. The thousand-yard stare that Alya fixed on her from over his shoulder was only dimly registered beneath a mental waterfall of 'oh shit'.  
  
Well, there was no way this could possibly get any worse.

“Wh… Really?” asked Adrien incredulously. He blinked down at her, lips parted in confusion. They really were such nice lips, thought Marinette. What a shame.  
“Yes,” a strange chaos-inducing being in control of her vocal chords replied.

Oh. Never mind. This was definitely worse.

For some reason far beyond her comprehension Adrien’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. His shoulders jumped as his hands snapped up to curl themselves into the hem of his tshirt, eyes flicking between hers, the floor, and some spot off to his right. Ordinarily, Marinette might’ve found this behaviour odd (given that it was she who’d just thrown herself head-first into the deepest pit of shame that Hell had to offer) but her mental facilities had since ground to a complete halt. So she simply stood there, stiff as a board with her mouth in a hard line, as Adrien Agreste twisted a designer shirt into ruin.

“U-uh, I…” He sounded out of breath. “So- so why’re you, um… Telling me about this?”

Yes Marinette. Why. Why, why, why. Why, oh why, did you open your mouth today. Why are you continuing to do so-

“Because,” she ground out. “I need help.”

That much was obvious.

Adrien blinked owlishly at her. His cheeks had yet to lose their flare, and it was _adorable_ -

“M-my help? Why my… Me?“  
“You’re a guy, and-“ the love of my life “-a friend. Maybe you could give me-” a chance to start this disasterous attempt at a confession all over again “-some advice?“

A muffled slap: Alya had dropped her head into her hands.

Some of the tension seemed to drain from Adrien’s shoulders as they suddenly shook with breathy laughter.

“Oh,” he grinned sheepishly at her, one hand dropping the bottom of the creased-far-beyond-Agreste-company-standards shirt and trailing it’s way up his front (Marinette didn’t even bother trying _not_ to track it) and curving to rest behind his neck. “Oh y-yeah! Of course! Sure thing Marinette, whatever you need- I mean-I’ll see what I can do, it’s like I know him very well or anything b-but I’d be happy to try..?”

“Great,” Marinette murmured. “T-thank you, perfect.”

 

\---

 

“Perfect? Really? Because I think ‘perfect’ was a bit of a strong word to use in this case. How about ‘complete disaster’ or ‘absoute wreckage’?”

Marinette, from her place face-down on the chaise, groaned into the upholstery. But Alya wasn’t letting her off easy. Said friend paused in her pacing to drop beside Marinette.

“We’ve been rehearsing that for weeks, I cannot believe how biblically you managed to fuck it up.”  
“Gee, thanks…”  
“You’re welcome.” Alya buried her fingers in Marinette’s hair, petting her absent-mindedly.

“Although, on the bright side, you hardly stuttered at all-”  
Alya had a point, that was a good thing.  
"-when you told your future husband that you were in love with someone else.”

Marinette howled in agony, rolling off the chaise lounge and into Alya’s lap. She beat her fists against her friend’s ribs, who responded with maniacal laughter.  
“Noooo,” she cried. “You call yourself my best friend? Betrayer! Betrayer most foul!”  
“You have done this to yourself!” declared Alya in a brief state of sobriety, before dissolving into cackles once again. “Seriously girl, what a mess.”

Marinette sighed, assault abandoned in favour of draping her arms over her face.  
“Tell me about it.”

Alya frowned down at her.  
“Hey,” she said after a moment, poking Marinette’s crossed forearms. “Hey, you know it’s not the end of the world, right?”  
She was answered with an extremely skeptical-sounding raspberry.  
“I mean we’re going to have to adapt our strategy, but I think we can make this work. As per your catastrophic agreement with one Adrien Agreste, you’re meeting him in the library tomorrow after school to talk about your undying love for one half of Paris’ crime-fighting duo, are you not?”

Marinette lowered her arms to uncover a glare. Alya grinned. Easing herself onto the floor, Marinette sat up to blink warily at her friend.  
“…where are you going with this, Alya.”  
“Oh I’m going nowhere with this, just thought that you’re going to be alone. With Adrien. For an extensive period of time. Maybe multiple extensive periods of time. Talking about… Fluffy romantic things, and other such notions. Did I mention: alone.”  
Marinette blushed.

“Sooo,” pressed Alya, whipping out her phone and twirling a stylus between her fingers. “Given that we’ve established that we can turn this around, we’d better get started on a battle plan.

 

“…and if it all goes sideways at least you’ll have piles of advice on how to win over Chat Noir: that’s one hell of a consolation prize.”  
“ALYA!”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The words that left his lips had her eyes bulging out of their sockets.

It turned out that Marinette didn’t have to wait until the next day to discuss her “feelings” for Chat Noir.

 

She jumped violently, sloshing lukewarm tea all down her front, when heavy black boots suddenly landed on the railing beside her head.  
_WHAT THE F-_  
Whipping around, Marinette stared up at the intruder from her badly shaken fold-up chair. The intruder stared back. His luminous green eyes were blown wide, wild golden hair catching pinks in the evening sun. He appeared to be out of breath and was very, very red in the face, as if he’d sprinted here from the other side of the city.

After a significant amount of silence and staring Marinette realised that he had yet to say anything.  
Marinette decided to jumpstart him.

“Chat Noir!” she said loudly. That seemed to shock him out of his stupor.  
“Marinette!” he gasped, suddenly blanching and attempting to backpedal: “Citizen! Mar- Citizen of Paris, whose name I don’t- I _do_ know because I’ve met. Before. A few times. Marinette.“  
Marinette blinked.  
“Fancy meeting you,” he continued, waving his arm in a vague gesture. “Here, um…”  
“On my balcony?”  
“…on your balcony,” he finished lamely. Chat’s eyes slid shut. He hung his head. “Right. Okay.”  

Who the _hell_ was this.

Carefully, slowly, as if approaching a skittish animal, Marinette pushed herself from the chair to stand before him. He was still perched on the railing like some kind of gigantic bat, coiled tighter than a spring and hunched over with his chin buried in his chest.  
“What’s going… On?” she asked warily. She wondered if she should put an hand on his shoulder: he seemed so… Unsteady.  
“I’m fine thank you how’re you-“ he blurted, his jaw snapping shut with a click of teeth. That wasn’t an answer to what she’d asked him. His eyes flickered up to hers for a split second before training themselves on his feet. Chat Noir gnawed on his bottom lip-

Marinette was completely and utterly stumped. The anxious quivering mess of a boy (words she’d never in her life have dreamed to associate with Chat Noir) clinging to the railing above her looked about two eye-twitches away from a total nervous breakdown and she had no idea how to respond.

Her first instinct was to insist that he was an imposter, another Copycat? She narrowed her eyes. But he wasn’t. No, at this point in their partnership she just knew. Marinette could see his ticks, tells that she knew better than her own: the fluttering of his long eyelashes when he looked off to the left (he was thinking); the tightening slope of his jaw (bone slowly shifting as he chewed on an idea); a subtle arching of his shoulders (the smoothly rolling muscles beneath the leather meant he was preparing for action); his fingers tightening on the rail (whatever he was about to do or say, he wasn’t looking forward to it). So Marinette clasped her hands in front of her, rocking back on her heels and watching him closely as she waited.

 

The words that left his lips had her eyes bulging out of their sockets.

 

“W-WHAT?!” she shrieked, slapping her hands over her mouth. No more embarrassing noises from you, Marinette’s Mouth.

Chat’s face blared bright red (she could feel the heat of them – or was that the heat of _her_ cheeks? She was probably blushing just as hard if not harder-)  
“Um,” he said eloquently. Chat’s shoulders rose a fraction – defensively? “Was that… Did I get that wrong, did I-“ Marinette gaped as the stiffness drained from Chat Noir’s face to make way for sheer unadulterated terror. “Oh my god-“  
“HOW-“  
“I’M SO SORRY I DIDN’T THINK-“  
“WHO TOLD YOU-“  
“Y-YOU KNOW WHAT FORGET I SAID ANYTHING-“  
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN FORGET YOU SAID ANYTHING HOW COULD I JUST- YOU JUST TOLD ME THAT-“  
“DON’T WORRY ABOUT IT I DIDN’T MEAN IT ANYW-“

Marinette’s expression soured and Chat paled, waving his hands wildly in front of his face as he just about fell off of the railing in his desperation to stumble across the decking towards her.

“Oh- oh no I didn’t mean like- I’m sorry that’s-“

Marinette crossed her arms and scowled at him. By all accounts she shouldn’t have had any reason to be offended given that she definitely absolutely in no way- But anyone who thought they could just take back something like that needed serious admonishment.  
Chat’s claws hovered helplessly in the air between them as his face twisted through the emotional spectrum faster than Marinette could catalogue.

“Of course you didn’t mean it,” she said icily. Her eyes raked over him like a very skeptical barcode scanner. Chat froze. “You don’t even _know_ me.”  
“I-“ he paused, suddenly frowning. “I could say the same about you!”  
“ _Excuse_ me?”  
“I said, I could say the same about you!” he said, the sudden realisation seeming to pour a bit of that familiar confidence back into his voice. It made her feel better. Didn’t quell her raising hackles though: if anything it melted her hesitance regarding Chat’s previously uncharacteristic attitude and left her rearing to fight back. “You don’t know me either, how could you go around telling people that you-“  
“I _don’t_ go around telling people… Telling people _that_!”

Chat gave her a flat look, folding his arms across his chest to mirror her. The move sent a spike of irritation up Marinette’s spine: she abruptly dropped her fists to her hips.  
“You _do_.” He countered.  
“Do not!”  
“Do too!”

Marinette threw her arms into the air, letting out a frustrated yell.  
“How do you even _know_ about-“ she dropped her arms, frowning. Her eyes lost their focus as her brain whirred… Wait…

A smirk in the corner of her vision snapped her attention back to the present. Chat Noir was much closer to her than he had been before, having bent at the waist to push his face right up into hers. His previous skittish attitude seemed to have completely vanished.  
“So that’s _basically_ a confession that you _do_ go around telling-“  
“Hang on,” Marinette rolled the words about in her mouth before letting them out into the air, because she wasn’t entirely sure what they’d mean. “I… I only told two people.”

“Aha! That’s _definitely_ a-“ Chat’s grin dropped off his face. “What.”  
“I only told two people,” she repeated slowly. “Alya and-“  
Chat turned whiter than a sheet as Marinette suddenly whipped her phone out of her pocket, fingers flying over the screen as her eyes narrowed dangerously.  
“W-what’re you-“ A single finger shot up to Chat’s lips, effectively silencing him.

Suddenly the finger was one of two hands fisted in the front of his suit, yanking him down to someone else’s eye-level. He hadn’t even seen her repocket the phone: she was fast.  
“When did you talk to her?”  
Chat blinked stupidly.  
“W-who?” he tried.  
“You know who,” she hissed, giving him a little shake for good measure. “Alya Cesaire, the ladyblogger, when did you talk to her?“

Boy, she really miscalculated how close their faces were. His eyes were huge and so, so green. Distractingly green- He seemed to be similarly affected, staring at her like he’d never seen her before.

“I, um,” he licked his lips and she really truly didn’t notice at all. “L-last Tuesday, I think..?”  
Marinette scowled at him and he shrunk into himself.  
“You’re lying.”  
Chat flushed.  
“Am not!”  
“Are too!”  
“Am-“ he squawked in a very undignified manner as she shook him again. “S-stop that!”  
“When!”  
“I don’t know what you’re-“  
“WHEN!” 

Chat wormed himself out of her grasp, nearly tripping over his feet as he staggered backwards towards the edge of the balcony – towards escape. Marinette was having none of it.

“WHAT ELSE DID SHE TELL YOU?”  
“Well it was n-nice seeing you again! I’ll just be-“

Marinette lunged, grabbing his tail in both hands and giving it an almighty yank. She was stronger than she thought (than Chat thought, that’s for sure) – her eyes widened as Chat cannoned into her, the teenagers toppling like pins and sprawling back onto the deck in a mess of curses and flailing limbs.

“What… Else…” seethed Marinette, grappling for dominance as Chat writhed like a live wire beneath her. His head hit the wood with a loud thunk and he stilled, groaning- That was enough for Marinette: she seized his wrists and pinned them down on either side of his head. Chat Noir yelped. He struggled uselessly against her iron grip, shooting Marinette a glare that was tinted with just enough awe to send a lick of flattery curling through her chest, before falling slack against the wood.

“What _else_ did she tell you?”  
Chat Noir huffed, blowing his bangs out of his eyes.    
“Nothing,” he panted. ” _She_ didn’t tell me anything.” 

Marinette’s hands loosened slightly in surprise because he was, actually, telling the truth. And his added stress on the word ‘she’ had her mind spinning again, because if he hadn’t heard it from Alya-

Chat’s eyes glinted victoriously and that was about all the warning she got before she suddenly found herself on her back. A flash of black and her thrashing arms were trapped above her head. She flexed experimentally and she felt his fingers tighten: she wasn’t getting loose any time soon.

So, Marinette settled for levelling him with her most loathsome look. A bark of laughter.   
“You’re insane,” he breathed. Marinette puffed out her cheeks indignantly.  
“Fight me.”  
He kissed her instead.

 

Blood roared in her ears as her brain set itself aflame-

It wasn’t anything but the briefest press of his lips against hers because suddenly he reared back, eyes wide and a stream of stammering apologies pouring from his mouth-

Marinette wasn’t listening. Marinette wasn’t there.  
You’ve reached the voicemail of Marinette Dupain-Cheng, please leave a message after the tone.  
Marinette was trapped in an endless loop of one word, playing over and over:

 

Again.

 

With a swing of her hips Marinette flipped their positions again and, without consciously deciding on a course of action, fused their lips back together.

She swallowed a moan – it wasn’t hers – and buried her hands in his hair, relishing in the thickness of the soft golden locks. Very soft. Much softer than it looked. She felt him shiver beneath her as her nails raked across his scalp. Long foreign fingers twisted themselves in the loose material of her shirt at her side, another hand settling across the small of her back.  
The closeness of him made her dizzy. Marinette had never truly appreciated the immense heat another body could give off, especially in such close proximity, and the stark contrast to the chilling dusk air drew lines of goosebumps up and down her bare forearms.   
Marinette shifted the angle of her head get better access to that hot, hot, searing hot mouth of his – to kiss him deeper. He responded with the jerky, careful enthusiasm of a beginner and damn if the thought that he’d only ever done this with her didn’t make her toes curl. Mine. Mine mine mine – _more_.  
His body arched into hers when she traced the seam of his lips with the tip of her tongue and Marinette had no idea where her confidence had come from but if it had him reacting like this she’d keep pushing. The trembling hands at her back and side curled around her waist and tightened, desperately seeking to close the space between them – Marinette’s elbows buckled under the sudden show of strength and she melted into the hard planes of torso beneath her. They both gasped at the press of chest against chest and Marinette seized the opportunity to push a thumb against his chin to keep his jaw open, while Adrien’s hands began to drag their way up her back-

 

Marinette’s innards shriveled into themselves and she sprung away from him, landing heavily on her rear. Away from Chat Noir. Chat Noir, not Adrien. She’d been-

 

Chat was propped up on his elbows, bruised lips still parted as he stared at her. At her, into her, straight through her. His sides heaved and his hair was tangled into a nest and his face was flushed and his pupils were blown and Marinette just wanted to- she swallowed thickly. Down girl.

 

“Um,” she croaked. “Uh…”  
“Wow,” murmured Chat, eyes misting over. His voice was pitched _low_ -

 

Oh no.

 

Adrien, think of Adrien- Marinette’s insides twisted again. Twisted with the same guilt that suddenly overshadowed Chat’s starstruck expression.  

“I need… I need to…” he took a deep breath, trying to meet her eyes (which suddenly wanted to be focused on something – anything – else but _Chat Noir_ not Adrien). “I should go.”  
Marinette nodded mutely, blinking skywards.   
“Are you oka-“ she cut him off with a wave of her arm. “Okay, okay, I’ll see you t… Bye.”

 

He’d whispered that last word with such a strange cadence that Marinette dropped her chin to look at him: he was already gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (OH NO THEY'RE GETTING DUMBER)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Adrien gets banned from the library  
> 2\. Important stumbling blocks are cleared

He was staring at her.

The last block of the day was study hall: Mme. Bustier’s class was spread out between the tables dotted about the library. Work quietly, they’d been told. And they were managing that – well, managing as best as a group of teenagers placed in an absolute void of entertainment could.

He was still staring. Why was he staring. _God_ it was distracting: her skin prickled.

The heavy silence was occasionally broken by the rustle of turning pages, a cough or a sniffle, and the brief hushed conversations of the occupants. Muffled giggles drifted through the shelves behind them, causing Alya’s sharp eyes to flicker up from her book (or rather the phone propped up between the pages). On their way back down said eyes caught Marinette’s and she winked.  
“You ready?” she mouthed, tapping her watch.

Ready. Sure, Marinette was ready. Ready to run. Flee. Maybe catch the next boat to Antigua. 

Alya clearly sensed this, because her cheeky expression fell.  
“What,” she deadpanned. “You’re not ducking out of this, we practiced with a _script_ -“  
“I- It’s not- well it is but-“ Marinette hissed. She leaned forward. Arching a curious eyebrow, Alya bent over the table as well.  
“What’s up?”  
“He just… He’s looking.”

Thank god for Alya, honestly. A lesser friend might’ve made a show of turning about to look. A lesser friend might’ve called out to him. But Alya wasn’t a lesser friend: Alya was a great friend. A subtle peek – barely a tilt of her head. A sharp intake of breath.  
“He _is_ ,” she said.  
“Are you sure,” whispered Marinette desperately. “Because I feel he’s been looking for a while now and it’s probably- I’m making this up- he’s probably not looking at me maybe it’s-“  
“No, no: it’s definitely you.” 

That _wasn’t_ a relief.

Marinette’s hands flew up to run her fingers through a pigtail, twirling the ends in her distress- Alya slapped her hands away.  
“Stop that, we spent half of our lunch break getting those perfectly level.”  
“Sorry.” 

…

 

“…so what should I do.”  
Alya smiled slyly, dropping her attention back to the phone. Book. Definitely not the phone.  
“Why don’t you stare back?”  
Marinette flushed.

She was kidding, surely. Or course she had to be kidding. Marinette would _never_ - 

Adrien sat on the other side of the library, elbows resting on the desk and fingers laced together in front of his face. His head was tilted just-so in the direction of their table and was most definitely one hundred percent. Looking. At. _Her_.  
He wasn’t being particularly subtle about it either: it was like he wasn’t even aware that he was doing it.  
His eyes were half-lidded and glazed and curiously dark as they dragged over the curve of her jaw and fixated on- oh _god_ please let there not be something in her teeth and that’s what he’s been-

Adrien blinked, slow and lazy, continuing his visual sweep of- whatever it was that seemed to have captivated his attention (he hadn’t even _noticed_ her noticing). He absently chewed on the back of his thumb: Marinette tried not to think of the way his lips melded seamlessly around the digit. Tried. Failed. But the trying part was important, she insisted to herself.

Her eyebrows furrowed as it slowly dawned on Marinette what was happening: Adrien was checking her out. _Surely_ not. A thrill ran up her spine.

Adrien, if she didn't know any better, was looking at her like he wanted to eat her.  
Adrien was looking at her exactly how Marinette had always wanted him to look at her and she was absolutely _terrified_.

Because… Maybe it was because that was a look she’d seen on someone else the night before.

The sudden thought forged a lump of ice in her gut and Marinette forgot, for a split second, that she was supposed to not have noticed him - her eyes snapped to his. For the longest moment, nothing happened. Like mutual deer caught in mutual headlights. Green on blue, blue on green. It seemed eerily famil- Marinette’s breath caught in her throat.  
Adrien finally seemed to have his wits returned to him and his eyes widened- 

And then Nino leaned over his books and flicked him square in the nose.

The sound that ripped out of Adrien Agreste’s mouth was inhuman - something akin to a tyre screech - as he lurched backwards in his chair and crashed into the nearest bookshelf. The shelf wobbled in protest, dumping a hefty dozen or so books on top of its assailant. Nino dissolved into hysterics, face down on his desk and clutching at his sides as he gasped back tears of laughter.

 

\---

 

“I’m sorry, I… I know we said we’d talk in the library after school but… Well… Um…”

 A semester-long ban from the library* (*without adult supervision) made that pretty difficult.

“T-that’s okay,” mumbled Marinette, ducking her face into her shoulder to push a lock of hair behind her ear. “How’s your… Um… Were you hurt?”  
“Hu- From the books, you mean? I, um, no, I’m fine. Thank you. Well a little embarrassed but fine! Fine…” From his seat on the bench beside her, Adrien tittered nervously. His hands were twisting the hem of his shirt again: Marinette silently added that to her small but growing encyclopedia of ‘Adrien’s Tells’. Was he… Blushing? She peeked at up him out of the corner of her eye.

School had ended about forty-five minutes ago, and the inner courtyard was empty. It was a Friday after all. The entire student body and faculty could empty the school in three minutes flat with the promise of a weekend. Adrien and Nino, however, had been held back after the disastrously entertaining end to study hall to have a serious talking-to with Mme. Bustier and the librarian (Marinette had stood outside the door for the 25 minutes it took them to finish, Ladybug senses tingling for any hint of Akuma-esque activity; Adrien practically melted with remorse when he’d seen that she’d stuck around so that in of itself had been worth the wait; Nino seemed to have made himself mysteriously scarce - Marinette suspected Alya’s involvement).  
She and Adrien had simply sat on the closest bench (far enough away from the flaring nostrils of the librarian) and here they were: both facing forward, neither brave enough to look directly at the other, expertly skirting around the point.

Boy advice.

She’d asked Adrien Agreste to give her boy advice (oh the irony), and he’d actually agreed. If only the focus wasn’t on-  

“S-so, Chat Noir, huh?”  
Marinette was glad he wasn’t looking at her because the grimace that split across her face might’ve given the game away then and there.  
“Well I won’t deny you’ve got pretty good taste.”  
Oh, sure she did.  
“I mean he seems like a pretty cool cat and all-” please say that wasn’t a pun, she really couldn’t handle it right now “-but I’m more of a Ladybug fan myself.”  
A rush of warmth fluttered in her belly at that.  
“Maybe we could swap tips: if we can combine our knowledge - hey! We could... hang out while our dates are out fighting crime.”  
There was an odd wistfulness in his tone that Marinette’s brain elected to ignore in favour of repeating Adrien’s “I’m more of a Ladybug fan myself” on loop. 

“And… You’re not… Marinette?”

Marinette jumped, whipping around. Adrien was looking down at her (fingers twisting that damned expensive shirt – she was going rip it out of his hands in a minute), and he looked… Desperate. Panic flared in her chest. Oh god Marinette, what’ve you done now-

“Marinette you haven’t said anything,” he murmured after a moment. He lowered his eyes from hers, glancing somewhere down and to the left. “I… I know that you’re not really… Are we friends? I mean I like to _think_ that we’re friends because you told me that you liked m- You asked me for my help in something like this and I thought that meant we were friends and that was g-great I thought it was great…” Marinette gaped at him. “...but I also know that we didn’t have the best start in the world so I thought- I hoped, that, I, that I could make it up to you. More. Keep making it up to you. Because we’re… I want to be… friends with you.”

The last words that fell from his lips were more of a question than a statement and oh boy, if Marinette hadn’t already been hopelessly head-over-heels for him she sure as hell was now.

So, Marinette did the bravest thing she’d ever done. Taking a deep breath, she looked a very anxious Adrien dead in the eye and placed a not-at-all-maybe-just-a-bit-shaking hand on his arm. He started, blinking down at her owlishly.

“We _are_ friends,” she said quietly (NOT A SINGLE STUTTER - Marinette repressed the violent urge to drop everything and ring Alya to tell her) “I want us to be f-friends too.” (Damn. Almost.)

Adrien’s eyes crinkled and his face split into the most honest smile she’d ever seen on another person and her insides were melting because how could she have betrayed him like-  Her heart swelled almost painfully, like she’d swallowed a balloon. Marinette was _so_ in over her head.

Fuck it. She was on a roll and riding an emotional high, so _fuck it_. 

“Adrien look actually there’s something I need to tell you it’s… Ah…”

All this newfound honesty and heart-spilling seemed to have tugged something inside Adrien because she suddenly had his full and undivided attention. All reservations and nerves seemed to have melted away. It was a bit… Overwhelming actually, going from a fleeting flash of eye contact in the hallway to just how interested he looked in what she had to say. What she had to say. She… God she’d nearly forgotten what it was she was going to say, what was it… Um... He leaned in a little, humming encouragingly, and she crushed the instinct to scamper backwards. Her hand unconsciously tightened its grip on his forearm.

“About what I told you… About what I said about Chat Noir… Y-you see it’s actually not… I really actually… What I meant to say was…”

She could practically hear Alya roaring with victory on the sidelines. Adrien’s face was a foot away from hers and he was looking at her like she was about to tell him the secrets of the universe and how could one human being get under her skin like this-

Chat Noir looked at her like that. Ladybug her, when he thought she wasn’t looking. She wondered if, after last night…

“Thanks for agreeing to help me with this.” 

Marinette wasn’t sure if she imagined the distant howl of disappointment or if her suspicions were correct and Alya was somehow monitoring their exchange.

Adrien beamed another blinding smile (it was like looking at the _sun_ , ugh) and patted her on the back. Marinette shivered as jolts of electricity spread from the point of contact but Adrien didn’t seem to notice.  
“Of course!” he said, very nearly giddily. "Anything!"  
Mariette chuckled weakly. Why did she do these things to herself. Why.

For the second time that day, she considered Antigua. One-way, non-stop, Antigua.

Well, maybe she’d stop to strangle Chat Noir first. Then Antigua.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next up: Alya's script


	4. Chapter 4

Marinette met Adrien on the steps of the school after fencing practice. She fell into stride with him, and so they just kept walking.

 

\---

 

“Okay girl, first thing’s first: you’ve got to engage in casual conversation.”  
“About… What, like, about what he likes in girls and stuff or-“  
Alya whacked her over the head with a pillow.  
“No, you dolt. We’re not even close to that yet! Cool your heels.”  
Marinette screwed up her face.  
“Well how the hell am I supposed to engage him in casual conversation-“ mocking air quotes “-if I can’t even say hello to him?”  
Alya shot her a pair of reassuring finger guns that weren’t at all reassuring. ‘Ominous’, more like.  
“Gotcha covered: why don’t you start with what Nino told me about him this morning? People like it when you ask questions about themselves. Also this is weird as shit, get this…”

 

\---  

 

“So you’ve never… Really?”

“Nope,” chirped Adrien, surging ahead and twirling about on his heel to face her as he all but skipped backwards. They were circling the park at a casual pace but, with Adrien’s long legs, Marinette had to work a little harder to keep up.  
“I mean I-I’m not too surprised given the… The…” she gestured vaguely to… all of him. Adrien grinned up at her from under his bangs and Marinette tried very hard to stamp down the flurry of butterflies in her stomach because she needed to be cool. Cool. Be cool, Marinette.  
“The model thing?” he prompted.  
“The model thing.” She echoed. Being cool was easier when someone else supplied the words. “But still!”

Adrien shrugged, swilling the contents of the half-empty soda can thoughtfully.  
“It was never deemed an appropriate inclusion to my diet,” he chanted. Marinette frowned at the mechanical delivery of the words – it was clear that line had been fed to him many times before. Fed to him instead of anything with more than 1% sugar, probably. She was struck by the image of a much younger Adrien being dragged away from a bowl of sweets and a sudden angry boiling of protectiveness bubbled up in her chest. She, the Baker’s Daughter, must take responsibility for this heinous crime against the basic principles of childhood.

“...Marinette?”  
Something must’ve shown on her face because Adrien was eyeing her cautiously.  
“Come on,” she said firmly, digging around in her pockets for change. “I’m going to get you another one.”  
Adrien’s eyes widened.  
“I-what?” he half-gasped, half-laughed. “You’re not serious-“ Marinette had already stomped off towards the nearest newsstand “-oh my god you _are_ serious.” He jogged after her, calling out her name but Marinette was resolute, as Marinette always was in the face of wrongs that needed righting.

Adrien hovered helplessly by her elbow, spluttering excuses as she shoved the coins across the counter.  
“W-wait you can’t please you already bought me this one I- I don’t have change I can’t pay you b- Look, I haven’t finished the first one yet- Mar-“  
“Which one do you want?” she thundered.  
“I-“ Adrien shrunk into himself. “Coca-Cola, please,” he whispered.  
“Right, give me that-“ Marinette snatched the can from him, downed it in two gulps (Adrien _stared_ ) and slammed the empty vessel into the bin beside her, before shoving the freshly bought cola into his hand, tearing off the tab with frankly a little more flair than necessary. “-now drink.”

Anyone would’ve found it difficult to obey that order if their jaw hung as slack as Adrien’s. The slightest tinge of pink coloured his cheeks as he gaped down at her. After a short moment of silence, Marinette began to return to herself, along with the creeping promise of a tidal wave of self-consciousness looming in the near future. Heat flared in her cheeks and she made a strangled noise, waving at him to just have the blasted drink and please oh please stop staring at her because it was really wigging her out she was such a freak honestly-

Hesitantly, Adrien brought the the little red can up to his mouth (his eyes flashed up to hers - she’d never seen such nerves in the face of soft drinks, if it weren’t so endearing and tragic it’d’ve been hilarious).  
“What does… What does it taste like?” he whispered around the rim, glancing this way and that to make sure that no passersby had heard that Adrien Agreste didn’t know what Coca-Cola tasted like and if this boy didn’t put a lid on his adorableness she was going to explode-  
“Um,” she started, but for the life of her… “You know I don’t… I don’t actually know?”  
Adrien laughed, brows curling in confusion.  
“What do you mean, haven’t you ever had it?”  
“No no, of course I have, just...” Marinette frowned, the realisation that ‘I’ve never actually thought about the taste breakdown of Coca-Cola before’ rolling quickly into ‘it doesn’t taste like anything comparable on this earth Jesus Christ what have I been drinking my entire life some kind of alien serum derivative’. “It’s really hard to describe, it just tastes like… Cola? You’ve just gotta… Try it?”

Adrien tipped the can against his lips. Froze. He pulled a face.  
“Oh,” he said after an agonizingly long moment, during which Marinette wondered how quickly the police would take to arrest her for the poisoning of a celebrity. “What _is_ that?”

Marinette couldn’t help it: the bubble of tension popped and she burst out laughing.

Adrien’s eyes glittered at the sound, his sour expression stretching into a wide grin.  
“No seriously-” Marinette laughed harder when she heard his voice start to quaver, covering her face with her hands “I mean it’s not unpleasant but- I’ve heard so much about this stuff and I d-don’t- w-what does this even-” He took another sip, made another face, and nearly snorted it out of his nose trying not to dissolve into the hysterics that Marinette was reduced to at this point “-what am I drinking? What is- M-Marinette w-w-”  
He couldn’t manage any more than that, doubling over and giving in at last.

The owner of the newsstand peered down from his seat at the two idiot kids who were hunched by his magazine rack, howling over a can of coke.

 

\---

 

“Next step! Once you’ve lulled him into a false sense of security with your witty banter - well… Just humor me on the witty banter bit, okay - You can begin the grilling.”  
“...the grilling.”  
“Yep. Right in there, take no prisoners, give no warning, etc. etc. It’ll take the victim-”  
“Victim?!”  
“-it’ll take the subject by surprise-”  
“I’m not really happy with ‘subject’ either…”  
“Forcing them to answer honestly…. Girl you are _so_ missing the point.”  

\---

She met him on the school steps again two days after Adrien had discovered soda (he’d had a photoshoot the day before) and they drifted over to the park again. At some point, conversation between the two had become easier and Marinette’s delight was only outshone by Adrien’s. She could do this! Despite actively avoiding the subject they’d agreed to meet over, Marinette’s confidence began to blossom and they’d talked about pretty much everything else two people could talk about. She’d learned more about Adrien’s likes and dislikes in the last few days than she had in… Well since she’d met him. She was on a roll. Maybe that’s why it just slipped out.

  
They were sitting with their backs against the Ladybug and Chat Noir statue - ironic.

Adrien’s head whipped around so fast that she heard the bones pop.  
“Come again?” he said quickly.

Nope. Nope nope nope. She was wrong, she couldn’t do this. Alya could throttle her all she liked: there was no was in hell Marinette was going to repeat that, she couldn’t believe she’d even said it _once_ let alone-

“What do you… What do you look for in a g- in girls?”  
There was a long silence in which Adrien considered his answer. Or just stared at her. Or maybe both. With her eyes fixed on her feet Marinette completely missed the ruddy blaze that lit up Adrien’s entire face.  
“M-me?”  
Yes.  
“Boys in general.” Marinette was a terrible liar, how was he buying this for even a second.  
“O-oh right of course.” Another long pause. “W-well I… I… I guess I, um… Nice? I guess?”

Nice. Good, okay. Marinette liked to think that she was a nice person. Check. Or… Wait, how nice was nice: did nice mean charity runs and soup kitchen work because she was really pressed for spare time as it was but if that’s what it took she might be able to-

“But really I’ve never… Never really put a lot of thought into it personally-“  
Marinette stiffened, because he had just lied to her. She had no idea how she knew: the tone, was it? Her eyes slid over to him and- Sure enough, Adrien’s fingers absently rubbed the side of his face in what was supposed to look like a nonchalant gesture. But it wasn’t. She couldn’t quite take her eyes away from those fingers, rubbing rubbing rubbing, up and down along the side of his jaw because she couldn’t quite believe it. That she knew, that is. That that absent-minded action was anything but. She tried to think of any reason why she should know it to her core because not in living memory had she seen this tick in Adrien Agreste. On him it could actually be nothing- No, she knew it wasn’t. Especially when Adrien seemed to sense her and those fingers suddenly jerked away from his face and into his lap.  
“…anyways, enough about me, let’s talk about you!”

What.  
Wait, no- Alya hadn’t prepared her for this, they were going out of order wait wait wait which part was-

“So do you… Do you know Chat Noir personally?”

Oh god, if only he knew.

“I mean, you’ve met him a few times right so you know him but… Like… Uh… When did you know that you… You know…” Adrien blanched suddenly. “Oh god wow, no never mind that’s really personal actually don’t-“  
“It’s… It’s okay-“ oh boy was it not okay “…to answer your question, um… Only very recently.”

Ha.  
Haaaaa.

Adrien was talking again and Marinette was having a very difficult time trying to keep up, mentally tearing through Alya’s script to try and find where they were at.  
“…do you talk to him often?”

Yes.

“Uh, well, he… He patrols my area pretty frequently-“ oh no that sounded an awful lot like a euphemism “-so I guess I… See him every now and then. He’s… He’s nice.”  
Adrien looked away from her.  
“Is that why you…?” his voice trailed off and Marinette was perplexed by the delicacy with which he spoke. “Because he’s nice?”  
“Well yes, of course,” Marinette heard herself say. Praising her partner when he sounded doubted was somewhat of an automatic response at this point. “Chat Noir is a wonderful person. He’s very brave, he’s selfless, and he really cares about… About _everyone_. And, he’s… He’s… Well, yeah: nice. The leather suit helps too.”

A snort from beside her and it suddenly occurred to her what she said: Marinette turned beet red. What. The hell, Marinette.

“It’s not actually leather,” chuckled Adrien. “It’s actually more of a-“ He abruptly swiveled to face her. “T-That is to say it doesn’t look like leather. Model thing. Dad. Fabrics. Not leather. Maybe.”  
“Y-yeah,” said Marinette slowly, arching an eyebrow at Adrien’s twitching. “I wonder what those suits are made of…”

Hours spent examining her own suit hadn’t answered and questions she had about their armor, and neither had a very cryptic 5,000-year-old quantic god (though not from lack of asking her). Maybe Chat’s kwami was less mysterious.  

“Why don’t you ask him next time he…” Adrien couldn’t keep the smile out of his voice. “Patrols your area.”  
“Oh my god.” Marinette’s shoulders shook with barely contained laughter as she dropped her head into her lap. “I was hoping you didn’t hear it that way but that’s what I get for opening my fat trap.”  
“Aw, don’t be like that, your trap is a lovely trap. Phat trap, not fat trap.”  
“What like, with a ‘ph’ rather than an ‘f’.”  
“Ouais.”  
“A pun.”  
“Ooooouais.”  
“Unbelievable.”  
“Punbelieveable.”  
“ _Chat_ -“

Adrien stilled.  
Oh my god.

“-Noir would r-really approve of… He’s got an awful sense of humor.”  
“Ah,” Adrien breathed.

Oh my god. Oh. My god.

…

OH MY GOD.

The silence between them roared in her ears as the casual demeanor Marinette had built for herself shattered in an instant. Had that really just happened. Had she really just- oh _no_.

FUCK.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> slams face against keyboard
> 
> and that is how a chapter is produced


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the plot thickens (jk there is no plot)

He’d dropped her.

 

He’d  _ dropped _ her?

 

He’d  _ fucking _ -

 

Sitting on her smarting behind, she glared up at him where he stood, on the edge of the adjacent roof about three metres above her, his face a mask of horror. His claws were still out in front of him, cradling a phantom body.

 

“What the hell, Chat?” she spluttered, leaning back on her hands to scowl up at him. “Ow!”

Chat Noir gasped and slapped his hands across his open mouth.

“Oh my gosh, Ladybug I am  _ so _ sorry!” His voice was muffled behind his fingers. “I-I don’t- I-”

“It’s fine,” she muttered, gingerly pushing herself to her feet - she winced as she brushed gravel off the back of her thighs. Why did people even put gravel on rooftops anyway? A crunch beside her and Ladybug huffed as Chat’s claws wavered in the air between them. She ignored him, continuing to pluck the sharp little stones from where they were embedded in her suit. None had cut through, of course. Magical suit and all.

But he had  _ dropped _ her. Off a  _ roof _ .

She cut off his steady stream of garbled apologies with a dismissive wave of her arm. 

“I said it’s  _ fine _ , Chat.”

“No,” he whined, bottom lip popping in a stubborn pout as his eyes continued to flicker all over her for signs of harm. “No it’s  _ not _ fine, I can’t believe I- I’m  _ so _ -”

He’d laid his palm on the curve of her elbow and Ladybug had twitched. Oh, she’d twitched  _ hard _ . His fingers snapped back and he was apologising again but Ladybug wasn’t listening - she was standing stock still, eyes fluttering shut as she tried to will away the steady burning creep of heat up her neck. 

 

Of course the how and why he’d dropped her off said roof in the first place might’ve actually been attributed to her and she was very, very pleased that he was too preoccupied about having dropped her off of a  _ goddamn roof _ to question anything that happened before that. 

 

\---

 

Flying akuma, they agreed between them, were their least favourite. 

 

Not that either of them were afraid of heights, of course not, but it’s just that flying akuma fights tended to end up with one or both of them in unwanted free-fall situations. Like now, for example.

 

Lucky charm had been simple enough to figure out: a set of bolas to tangle in the giant propellor of the akuma’s helicopter hat. Unfortunately, the only way she’d been able to get a clear enough shot was to be launched into the air. Unfortunately, with her lucky charm currently tangled up with another person careening face-first into the side of a building, Ladybug’s means of getting herself out of the air were suddenly strictly limited. Unfortunately, ‘strictly limited’ meant hitting the ground.

 

Or-  

 

Ladybug gasped when another body slammed into hers, arms and legs automatically coiling around it.

“Gotcha!” Chat Noir’s voice was barely audible over the wind. One arm tightened around her middle in a reassuring squeeze and she found herself grinning into his collar as they arced through the sky: a wonky weight on the end of an upside-down baton-based pendulum. 

 

Old Faithful lived up to the title once again.

 

“Hey, LB!” Ladybug squinted up at a suspiciously blinding grin. “Wanna see a trick?”

Her expression fell.

“No-”

Her voice cut off with a pitched squeal of surprise as she was unceremoniously tossed into the air. She flailed for a moment, weightless, while Chat swung himself up to balance on his toes on the tip of the baton, before spreading his arms as letting her land heavily in his grip, bridal style.

Heart in her throat, Ladybug’s arms fastened tight around his neck as she held on for dear life. Maybe too tight - her face was smooshed up against the side of his and he choked a little - but he’d scared the living daylights out of her and she did not appreciate having said daylights, living or otherwise, removed from her person. Not when she’d only just been coming down from the spike of fear from by her earlier battle-ending stunt.

“CHAT NOIR!” she yelled furiously into his ear. “PUT US DOWN RIGHT NOW!”

“As my lady commands!”

Damn that smirk. She couldn’t see it with her eyes pressed into his cheek, but oh, she could hear it. She wanted to wipe it off his smug face.

 

Marientte suddenly recalled with startling clarity how she’d managed to wipe away the last smirk she’d seen on him, and her breath hitched against his skin. She hadn’t actually been this close to Chat since then and- Wow, he was warm, she’d forgotten that- Or was it her? Oh god she wasn’t  _ blushing _ , of all the- Damn it, she mouthed against his skin. Her lips caught on the edge of his jaw-

 

Chat landed on the rooftop without any of his usual grace or flare. In fact to call it a landing would’ve given him too much credit: it was more of a crash than anything. His knees buckled beneath the weight of two as he staggered to a skidding halt, nearly tipping them both over the lip of the next building. His claws dug into her side to hold her closer to him as he curved his spine in an attempt to right them - the move hoisted Ladybug up so that her mouth was level with his temple. Her lips had dragged the whole way up the side of his face before she could pull back-

-not that far back, apparently. Noses barely two centimetres apart, their eyes locked - wide, and oh so surprised.

“Ah,” gasped Chat, having the decency to turn tomato-red. His breath washed over Marinette’s lips and she shivered. Warm.

 

She didn’t even register that she was leaning forward until she was falling through the air again.  

 

\---

 

They managed to purify the akuma in absolute silence.

 

“...Ladybug?”

 

She jumped, swivelling to face-

A very concerned-looking Chat Noir.

 

“Buh?” she replied eloquently. He blinked at her, before dropping his gaze and pooching his lips. Cute, she thought. Before mentally throttling herself. Oh my god - get a grip. 

“I don’t… You’ve been a bit off recently…” He dared to look up at her then. Chat’s claws dug into the leather behind his neck as he tilted his head. Ladybug’s eyes snapped to the sharp cut of his jaw where only minutes ago she’d- JESUS H CHRIST, MARINETTE. “Are you okay?”

 

Oh.

 

Well, let’s see now.

 

Am I okay?

 

Shall we go through the list. Accidentally telling the boy whom I’m desperately head over heels for that I’m in love with _you_ instead. Prolonging the torture by agreeing to talk about said confession with said boy as an excuse just to be around him, and not being able to muster up the courage to tell him the truth. You told me that _you_ \- Even when you weren’t supposed to know that- And then you _kissed me_ and then I _kissed you_ and then we _made out_ _on my roof_ before I effectively told you to get lost because I remembered right before I was about to shove my tongue down your throat that you’re the _wrong one_. And now I’m confusing they boy I’m _supposed_ to be in love with for you and I have no idea what that means and I really, really, really think that I want to kiss you again right now and I shouldn’t. And you just scared the shit out of me with some stupid circus trick and then you dropped me. 

 

She went with the last bit.

 

“You  _ dropped _ me,” she thundered. Chat paled, squawking when she fisted her hands into the front of his suit. For the second time that week. Ladybug forced the subsequent flood of memories to the back of her mind. “You dropped me after you threw me into the air for  _ fun _ .”

‘I’m sorry,” he said voice so small she almost didn’t hear him over the blood roaring in her ears. “I didn’t mean to upset-”

“Don’t you ever think before you act?!”

 

Her eyes popped as the words rung between them. Did  _ she _ ever think before she opened her big mouth? Did she ever think before… Before… Boy, she was holding him  _ really _ close. Really, really, really…

 

“But you caught me.”

“P-pardon?”

“You always catch me,” she breathed, suddenly a bit light-headed. Tension slowly ebbed from Chat’s shoulders as he relaxed in her grip a little. He watched her closely. 

“And I always will,” he tried, carefully prying her suddenly limp hands away from him. “What’s-”

 

His mouth was just as hot as she remembered and she quivered in delight at the sensation, standing on her tiptoes to reach him. Chat’s hands dropped her wrists like hotcakes and flew to her shoulders. She leaned into him until he moved, taking one, two wobbling steps backwards until his back hit the wall (good), his lips parting under hers and she pressed deeper, harder. More pressure to match the balloon of tightness swelling in her chest. After an agonizingly long moment, she felt his mouth firm against hers (finally, yes) and-

 

And then his claws dug into her shoulders and he pushed them apart with a wet pop.

 

He was breathing hard, lips glossy and open and very inviting. But he looked… He seemed surprised by his own actions. Well, so was she. Her brow furrowed as Ladybug tried to fill her suddenly empty lungs. 

 

“I’m sorry,” he panted, licking his lips (she jerked in his grip as she tried to suppress the urge to take them between hers again). “I…” His eyes grew round with sudden realisation and he gaped down at her. “I can’t.”

 

He…

 

“Oh,” she heard herself saying. Her voice was flat. Cold.

 

“No!” he blurted, ducking his head to her level and tightening his grip. “I mean I- I want to, more than anything I… I thought I…”

 

His fingers peeled away from her then and he stepped back, pressing the heel of his palm into his temple as he stared at her like she’d grown another head. 

 

Ladybug couldn’t find it in her to be mortified quite just yet because what the hell was going on. But it was coming, because a chill was beginning to creep through her to the beat of “oh my god how badly have I misinterpreted absolutely everything”.

 

She had to get out of there.

 

Now.

 

“I… Ladybug I think I need to g-”

“I have to go.”

 

She turned on her heel and, right on cue, her earrings began to beep. About bloody time.

Some flicker of movement caused Ladybug to look back: Chat Noir was gone.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

“Marinette! Marinette!”

Marinette ripped her earbuds out with a roll of her eyes.

 

“Oui maman,” she hollered, craning her neck to glare at the open trapdoor. Silence. Marinette frowned.

 

“Marinette!”

 

“ _Oui_ , maman!”

 

…

 

“Marinette!”

 

“UGH!” Marinette threw her hands in the air. Fine! She spun out of her chair and stalked over the stairs, muttering under her breath the whole way. “There’s no _way_ you didn’t hear me,” she growled, making a show of stomping down the steps with extra force.

 

Her mother stood in the kitchen by the sink (the same kitchen by the sink that was right next to the open loft, and in no way had any reduced sound reception), humming innocently as if she couldn’t feel the weight of her daughter’s provoked and murderous gaze boring into the back of her head. When she elected to ignore the heavy drumming of angry teenage fingers against the bannister, Marinette heaved a sigh.

 

“Quoi?” she said roughly.

 

Sabine removed her hands from the dishwater with a delicate flick that sent a chill of fear down Marinette’s spine. Uh oh.

Her mother turned very slowly on the spot, arching one elegant eyebrow at her in a silent threat. Marinette swallowed heavily. But Marinette was in a foul mood already, so why not dig a little deeper… She firmed her lips in a stubborn line, meeting Sabine’s probing stare head-on.

After a few very long, very tense moments, Marinette tossed her head indignantly. As if that would make her feel any less terrified of her mother’s eyebrow as it crept ever higher.

 

“I was in the middle of sketching, what do you w...” She lost her nerve halfway through, slumping over the bannister and hanging her head in surrender. “I mean… Yes?”

“Hello dear,” said Sabine pleasantly, seemingly satisfied with her daughter’s backpedalling. “I was wondering if you had any ideas for what you’d like for dinner-” oh, whoops, that was nice of her: Marinette winced “-and also if your papa had managed to fix the door to your balcony yet?”

 

Marinette pulled herself out of her mental throttling long enough to look up.

“The what?”

“The balcony door?” Sabine wiped her hands on the front of her thighs, leaning against the sink and blinking up at her daughter (still hunched over the railing). “There was an awful ruckus up there last night, like it was banging about in the wind or something, your father and I thought it might’ve blown open.”

“Ah… I don’t… Uh…”

“Oh no, this was while you were still at Alya’s...” Oh right. Alya’s. Marinette’s default response to ‘you were out late where were you’, since half of the time it was actually true and it happened so often her parents no longer felt the need to speak with Alya’s mother. Because she was definitely at Alya’s house last night. Not swinging away from Chat Noir as quickly as possible because of what she’d- The room seemed to darken at that thought. “...but I suppose he must’ve fixed it then, if you weren’t kept up by it last night! Goodness, you should’ve heard the racket!” That was strange though, because if her latch had been broken surely she would’ve noticed on her way back in... “At first we thought you’d locked yourself out there again - your father swore it was someone knocking, _ridiculous_ of course - I told him so…” Marinette’s stomach somersaulted unpleasantly.

 

“Knocking?” she squeaked. Hopefully her mother missed the alarming shade of red that had suddenly lit up her entire face. _Nooo.._.

“Yes silly isn’t he,” said Sabine fondly (she hadn’t noticed thank _god_ ). “But I said no, it was far too loud to be knocking it had to be…”

 

Marinette missed her mother’s in-depth analysis of wood-based sound effects and their probable sources because it was very difficult to hear anything past the steam whistling out of her ears.

Noooo. Noooooooo, no it can’t have been… But the latch wasn’t broken. And there was a very short list of people who would’ve been knocking on her balcony door _from_ _the outside_.

And since it wasn’t her…

 

Like a girl possessed, Marinette began to drift back up the stairs again.

 

“Oh, Marinette?”

“Oui maman.”

“What am I cooking?”

“Chat.”

“Pardon?”

“Ch-Chateaubriand, please!”

 

Sabine nodded, eyes roaming the kitchen thoughtfully.

“Oh yes, well that’s a bit extravagant but… But we haven’t had steak in a while, that’s your father’s fav-”

 

The door to Marinette’s room shut with a soft click.

 

\---

 

As opposed to her locker the morning after: the slam of metal-on-metal echoed down the hall, as did her shriek of surprise.

Adrien looked mortified.

 

“I-I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to scare-”

“That’s okay, Adrien,” wheezed Marinette, clutching at the space in her chest where her heart should have been, had it not been suddenly launched into orbit. “I was just thinking and… You… Surprised. Me. Surprised me. Hello, hi.”

“H-Hi,” he breathed.

When he failed to say anything else (and after her lungs had resumed functioning normally), Marinette looked up at him-

 

-Adrien Agreste, in short, was a mess. Well, as much as Adrien Agreste could be a mess - he still looked gorgeous, of course, supplied Marinette’s most unhelpful mind. Windswept hair, sticking up in odd angles in some places, heavy bags under bloodshot eyes (had he slept a wink? Didn’t look like it...), and… Was his t-shirt inside out? And then there was the way he was looking at her. His entire expression screamed ‘dazed’, like she’d just hit him over the head with a golf club.

Yikes.

 

This being said, she doubted she looked too much better. After her mother’s unwitting assault on her sanity, Marinette had clocked four, maybe less, hours of sleep. Tossing and turning and twisting the covers between her sweaty feet - thinking. Not even thinking: thinking implied some active say in the process. No, this was like a never-ending slideshow replaying all of her mistakes she’d ever made in conscious memory, and how they’d all somehow come together to form this terrible mess in which she now found herself. Particular emphasis seemed to be on the most recent mistakes. Particularly the most recent mistakes that involved kissing cat boys. Well. She can’t say that she minded replaying those but. She should. Those should bother her. Why didn’t they bother her. He came straight to her house (to her _room_ ) after essentially rejecting Ladybug, why would he… He got there even faster than she did. Hell. Why though- Oh god here we go again - Adrien is right there in front of you, please pay attention. Say something.

 

“You look exhausted.”

 

Marinette very nearly punched herself in the face.

Adrien blinked. Blushed. Bit his lip and looked at his feet. Oh no.

 

“T-that is to say-” Marinette’s tongue tripped over itself in its attempt to right itself. “-are you, ah, are you okay? Did you not get enough sleep last night?”

He sighed (still not looking at her - fair enough, Marinette, you’ve shredded this entire conversation). He opened his mouth a few times before seeming to settle on a reply.

“No, I… I didn’t. Sleep.”

 

Marinette’s panic ebbed at that. She furrowed her brow. None? Oh jeez, well no wonder the poor boy looked like death warmed up. None! She wondered why but- don’t be pushy, stupid girl.

One of the pieces of information she’d picked up about Adrien over the course of their new and startling stutter-free conversations was that he was a very private person. She knew he had issues with his family - that was something she’d learned from Nino; Adrien had never mentioned it -  could that be the reason? She didn’t want to ask in case she offended him, really… Though whenever the conversation had veered towards ‘slightly too personal’, Adrien always seemed to expertly and cheerily divert the focus to something else.

But it was quiet now: the conversation clearly wasn’t over because he was still standing there and peering up at her out of the corner of his eye every now and then - quick, think of something to say:

 

“Sounds like you could use some caffeine - can I buy you another coke?”

 

Marinette wondered how many dresses she’d have to sell to be able to afford the surgery to have her mouth permanently sewn shut.

 

But Adrien was chuckling - god it was a beautiful sound, it made her want to gush nature metaphors - she felt just a smidgen lighter to see the deep lines on his face melt away, even if it was just for a moment.

 

“No, no thank you,” he bit the tip of his tongue teasingly, seemingly beginning to relax. “After the last one, I’m being a lot more selective about what I put in my m-” Adrien choked on whatever he was going to say in favour of staring at her with his jaw hanging slack. Then he turned scarlet.

 

“Can I- Can I talk to you about something? Please?” he blurted suddenly: Marinette couldn’t very well refuse him; he was asking her like a man lost in the desert would ask for water.

“Of course, what…” Oh my _god_ , he was squirming in his shoes, what the hell could he..? “...what’s up?”

His tenseness was adding to hers by the second. Be cool, shake it off by being cool. Marinette leaned against her locker in what she hoped was a casual gesture (the nervous stiffness in her shoulders might’ve actually made her look like a toppled pillar than anything else).

His eyes widened in alarm.

“Wh- Here? N-now?”

Marinette and Adrien both looked over their shoulders - the room had cleared for lunch, it’d be empty for at least a few minutes. So why not?

“Well I mean, you don’t have to, we can talk l-”

“No! Yes. I, uh, here is good. Now, also. I can do it… I can…” His eyes slid shut.

Marinette wasn’t convinced that he was talking to her, so much as talking to himself.

 

So she tentatively brushed her fingers against his wrist in a soothing gesture-

-given by how high Adrien jumped into the air, she guessed that’d been the wrong thing to do.

 

Her gasped apology was abruptly cut off when both his hands snapped forward to catch hers in midair. Marinette gaped.

 

“IwaswonderingifyoucouldhelpmewiththesamehtingI’mhelpingyouwith,” he said in one breath. “I need… Advice.”

 

The same thing he’s helping me with. Advice? _Oh!_

 

“Like…” Marinette licked her lips. “ _Advice_ advice?”

Adrien nodded seriously.

“Like what I asked you for… Advice?”

His nodding increased in tempo.

“Like about… Someone?”

If Adrien’s head was rocking any faster he could’ve be mistaken for a bobble-headed dog toy on someone’s dashboard.

 

“You would like boy advice.”

“Yes,” gushed Adrien, shoulders bowing in relief.

 

…

 

“NO!” He squeezed her hand almost painfully, face stretched taut with panic. “I mean no! Not boy advice, the other kind, the- Oh no-”

“Girl advice?”

Adrien mumbled an affirmative in the smallest voice imaginable.

 

“Fire away.”

 

Wait, what.

 

Adrien visibly sagged and was already talking.

Hang on-

 

“Thank you so much, Marinette, I really appreciate this, you have no idea-”

 

Had she just agreed to give _Adrien_ advice on _how to get a girl to like him_ -

 

“-I mean I don’t really have anyone to talk to about this stuff asides from… Well, uh, we’re already sort of talking about it with you and m- t-that other guy, so I guess it made sense to ask you-”

 

She had just agreed to do _what_ -

 

“-that is to say not that I wouldn’t have asked you anyway if we weren’t already talking about that because we’re friends and stuff right-”

 

It implied that Adrien Agreste, her one true love, was either already in or was thinking about starting a relationship with someone _other_ than her-

 

“A-and you’re really the best choice- I mean you’re just the best in general. The best. Marinette. Um…”

 

-and she _wasn’t_ upset.

SHE WASN’T UPSET?!

 

“ _What_.”

“Sorry, yes I know I’m rambling, here okay let me- The point, right.”

 

She wasn’t upset. Marinette felt like she was floating away, Adrien’s increasingly sweaty grip the only thing keeping her tethered to the earth. She should be crushed. She should be reduced to a quivering pile on the floor. She shouldn’t have accepted this knowledge with the same level of mild disappointment as she’d have in the case of losing a hair tie.

 

Adrien took a deep breath, carefully releasing her fingers and trying to subtly wipe the sweat slicking his palms on the side of his jeans as he actively avoided eye contact. Which he’d’ve been pleased to know Marinette had totally missed because she was too busy staring into space.

 

Wow.

 

“So… There’s this… Girl.”

 

She’d figured.

 

“A-actually there’s-”

 

…

 

“Well, two girls, actually…”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> irony is my favourite colour.

Hunched over the lunch table with his chin tucked into his chest, Adrien Agreste made for a pitiful sight as he worried his lip between his teeth, anxiously waiting for Marinette’s verdict.

“…wow,” she said after a moment.

Adrien sunk low in his seat.

“Like, wow… That- That is complicated, you weren’t kidding…”

Chewing on the straw of her juicebox, Marinette’s brow furrowed. This was… Well, it was nearly as messy as what she’d gotten herself into. But she wasn’t even going to _think_ about that because it was so nice fixating on someone _else’s_ problems for a bit instead of her own. A point of clarity burst in the back of her mind about how Alya could stand to listen to her incessant Adrien-centric moaning – bookmark _that_ for later. It was _really cathartic_ \- Anyway.

“…I’m a horrible person aren’t I.”

She looked up and saw naught but a tuft of blond hair poking out over the top of the table. Oh- Her heart melted, following Adrien’s steady liquid progress towards the floor.

“Adrien no, no of _course_ you’re not-” she cooed, channeling as much of her inner Alya into her voice as much as she could. She leaned forward automatically, hand moving to grasp his shoulder- something stopped her halfway though, and Marinette was left staring at the outstretched hand that had planted itself firmly on the table surface. Um. Better ignore that too. “I, er- Isn’t it the opposite? That you care about both of them so much that you’re freaking out having to… Well, _choosing_ is a terrible word, but it’s really hard when they’re both so important to you a-as you say… You’re not a horrible person.”

 

The irony of her words was not lost on Marinette.

Green eyes peered up at her from below the rim of the table.

“And the fact that you say that both of them care about you a lot too, given all the… The… Um… K-kissing and stuff…” The red glare of Adrien’s face could probably have been seen from space. Marinette cleared her throat, twisting her neck to pull the collar of her shirt away from her suddenly sweaty skin. “And, uh, so I guess i-if you want to… You want to keep them both as friends at least, right?”

“Of course!” exploded Adrien, suddenly rocketing back upwards in his seat with enough force to make Marinette’s lunch tray rattle. Marinette’s eyes narrowed as she took in the suspicious pulling and bunching of his t-shirt – and he was definitely doing that aggravating shirt-twisty thing under the table where she couldn’t slap his hands away.

 

“Maybe you shouldn’t date either of them?”

He slumped, fixing her with a rueful look.

“Y-yeah, I suppose,” Adrien mumbled. He lowered his eyes into his lap, looking every inch like she’d just announced that Christmas was cancelled. “I mean I’d- I’d rather… I’d really _really_ like…”   

Marinette didn’t have the heart to let him flounder through the rest of that sentence.

“Okay,” she tried to keep the smile out of her voice. “So how about a polyamorous relationship then?”

Adrien looked like he was about to faint.

“Kidding, kidding!” Marinette waved her hands in a placating gesture. “Okay so… One for romance, one for friendship. Right?” Wow, slipping into the Alya role was getting surprisingly easy.

“B-but,” said Adrien desperately. He leaned in on his elbows and curled his lips into a grimace. “How am I possibly supposed to just- Which- I don’t know…” He groaned, dropping his forehead onto the cool metal surface.

Okay, Marinette. Deep breath. This can’t be any more painful than getting a tooth pulled. Maybe.

“Why don’t you tell me more about them, and I can help you? I really hate to see you upset like this, and if I can help with that I’d like to?”

Golden hair flashed as Adrien whipped his head up to look at her.

“I-I mean,” she yanked on a loose lock of hair, suddenly gut-clenchingly self-conscious. Oh gosh, that might’ve been overstepping the boundaries by like… A lot. And did she really want to know?

…yes.

“I can if you want… Would that be alright?”

Adrien grunted, slowly shaking his head while staring at her with an incredulous expression. Marinette’s stomach dropped clean out of her body. Oh crap. Massive rudeness levels alert. Good going, Marinette.

“N-no?” she squeaked. “I’m sorry I-“

“Yes! No, I mean yes, I- I meant, yes please! Just…”

With a huff, Adrien brought out the big guns: a tiny, blushing smile that sent a truckload of butterflies to collect and return Marinette’s abandoned stomach back to its rightful place. Butterflies for Adrien: oh finally, she thought dimly. Some return to normalcy.

“It’s just,” he said softly. “Every time you say nice things like that, it makes it harder for me to-“

“Excuuuuse me.”

Marinette lurched backwards as Adrien’s face was abruptly replaced by a block of denim.  

“ _So_ sorry to interrupt,” drawled Nino, draped across the table between them and making a great show of examining his nails. “Whatever it was you two have been gasbagging about for the last two weeks, I’m sure it’s _very_ important, but I’m going to have to cut you off right there.” He sat up, jabbing an accusing finger into Marinette’s face. “And as for you, missie: don’t think we’re not going to have words about you hijacking my best friend. Whose best friend, by the way, happens to be me. I have rights that come with that title, and they’ve been infringed upon! Infringed!”

 

From somewhere behind him, Adrien scoffed.

 

“And you!” Nino whirled about to face him, wasting no time in grabbing his best friend’s arm and pulling him out of his seat. Adrien yelped. “Kim lost, so now we are going to watch him eat that worm. That, and other such vulgar, childish activities! C’mon!”

 

And, dragging a stumbling Adrien after him, Nino marched haughtily across the school yard.

 

“I would’ve stopped him,” mused Alya, sliding into the seat beside Marinette. “But the poor boy was pining.” She jabbed her playfully in the side. “And he had a point: you two have been _awfully_ chummy lately, spare any time for your best friend?”

 

Marinette tittered guiltily.   

 

\---

 

“...Dupain-Cheng residence, Sabine speaking.”

 

Marinette exchanged a surprised glance with her father, whose chopsticks hovered in the air halfway between the plate and his mouth. In living memory, she didn’t think she’d ever heard anyone ring their private landline outside of Christmas. If the look on her father’s face was any indication, he was thinking the same thing. She’d forgotten it was still there, nearly dropping stir-fry all down her lap in fright when the cheery electronic jingle had suddenly sliced through their dinner conversation.

 

Sabine’s politely confused expression split into a wide grin, her sharp eyes fixing on Marinette’s from across the room. Marinette swallowed nervously.

 

“Adrien, darling! Hello, so nice to hear from you!”

 

 _What_.

 

Marinette choked on air. Her chair scraped noisily on the floor as she scrambled for the phone before any damage could be done. Ignoring her father’s discouraging guffaws, she sprinted across the hardwood as fast as her socks would allow, arm extended in desperation.

 

“Why yes, I’m very well thank you - oh yes business is going wonderfully, how sweet of you to ask! How are you?” Sabine, twirled to lean against the countertop, actively ignoring her daughter’s hopping-on-the-spot. “Good, good! Oh no dear don’t worry, we were just finishing up- Don’t be silly! No no, not a bother at all. No, of course not! Oh, hmm. Well I’m not sure if Marinette’s finished yet, she always goes for seconds you see, sometimes thirds! And-”

“ _Maman_!” Marinette hissed despairingly, flushing from top to toe. Her mother winked cheekily.

“Ah, no, here she is! Alright take care dear- Oh lovely speaking with you as well! Bye!”   

 

Such a nice boy! mouthed Sabine as Marinette pawed at the cordless phone, clutching it to her cheek as she sprinted up the stairs two at a time.

 

“Sorry,” she wheezed, shutting the loft door behind her with a little bit more force than usual (ignoring the muffled giggles coming from below). Safe. “My mother is just a bit… Well… Herself.”

Marinette dropped herself onto her swivel-chair, spinning around and blinking up at her ceiling. She’d turned the fairy lights on earlier: without the main ceiling lamp the room was dim, but lit by a warm pinkish glow from various corners. Comfy.

 

“That’s alright,” came Adrien’s staticy but pleasant voice from the receiver. “She’s really nice, I like her.”

“Yeah, she’s great,” smiled Marinette. “She’s a great cook too-” Adrien groaned loudly into her ear and she started. “What is it? Are you okay?”

“No, I, er… Marinette, I’m _so_ sorry for calling during dinner that’s really ill-mannered and I-”

“Oh, no! It’s okay, we were done anyway!”

“B-but your mother said-”

“Really, you weren’t interrupting anything.”

“I- Okay.”

 

There was a long silence. So long, in fact, that Marinette began to suspect she’d been hung up on.

 

“...hello?”

“Sorry! I’m here!” The reply was instantaneous and far too loud, making Marinette flinch away from the blare.

“Oh, right,” Marinette chuckled feebly. “Sorry, it’s, uh, it’s hard to tell if you’ve been hung up on with these old phones sometimes, I’m not really used to them.”

A noncommittal noise from Adrien’s end that sounded… Confused?

“What?”

“Ah, I just assumed that Alya would call a lot.”

“Pfft, well yeah, she does,” she grinned. “Like, borderline too much. But she calls on my mobile. I don’t think anyone’s ever called me on the landline before.”

 

More silence.

 

“...Adrien?”

 

Silence.

 

Mariette pulled the phone away from her ear and frowned at the tiny screen above the dial pad: it looked like the call was still running so why-

 

A tiny voice:

“...are… Are you not supposed to call people on the landline when they’re at home..?”

 

It was Marinette’s turn to sound baffled.

“Well,” she scratched her head. “I mean I suppose if you want to, sure, but I guess most people just call on the mobile-”

 

There was a definitive click and the dialtone whined in her ear. Marinette slowly lowered the phone to stare at it, as if it held some answers to what the hell had just happened.

 

He’d hung up on her. That’s what’d happened.

 

He’d _hung up_ on her?

 

He’d- Marinette jumped about six feet into the air when her back pocket buzzed. Whipping out the source, she now held one limp and lifeless landline phone in her left, and an very energetic mobile in her right. The screen blinked the contact’s name excitedly: Adrien.

 

A wary eyebrow slid up her forehead as her mobile continued to wobble for attention.

 

So she answered it.

 

“...hello?”

“I am so sorry that was so weird and-”

“Not as weird as you hanging up and calling me straight back on the mobile,” Marinette bit her lip to keep from laughing out loud. “How did you get the idea that- Don’t you ever call Nino?”

“W-well not at home, I’d probably get told off if Nathalie spotted me calling anyone but… My mobile is supposed to be used for work-or-family-related calls and emergencies only.”

There he was again, spouting lines in that passive well-rehearsed tone that made Marinette’s skin crawl. Anger for him made her tighten her grip on the phone reflexively.

 

“So,” she huffed, quickly trying to lighten the mood before she felt the urge to break something. She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Which one am I?”

“Pardon?”

Marinette rocked back in her chair, poking the rim of her desk with her toes absent-mindedly.

“Which one?” she repeated. “Am I work, family, or emergencies?”

A short bark of laughter from the other end of the line. Marinette beamed.

“Unless there’s something our parents haven’t told us, I doubt I’m family,” she continued. Wow, talking was so much easier over the phone! Without Adrien being there to distract her with the stars he put in her eyes, conversation came naturally. Even… Humor. If her mobile had a cord she’d one hundred percent be twirling it around her finger in satisfaction right now. “Am I… Work? Surely I’m not as high maintenance as Nino.”

Adrien made a loud noise of disgust.

“I love the guy, but you should be so glad you didn’t witness what he made me sit through today. I mean I’m all for healthy competition, but Alix really didn’t have to make him actually eat the worm, poor Kim. It was gross honestly.”

“A worm? Like… Not a gummy one I take it.”

“Nope: actual, organic, ground-dwelling worm.”

Marinette gagged into the receiver.

“I know right,” Adrien’s voice agreed darkly. “Nasty stuff.”

“Dare I ask… Why?”

“Oh the usual ridiculous dare, something about jumping into the ice pool stark naked.”

Marinette gave a flat hum.

“Well I don’t see how he could get in there anyway, it’s not really fair.”

“Oh, you think so?” mused Adrien.

“I know so,” she retorted. “How would Alix expect him to get into Le Grand? Let alone the spa… The only one of us, save Sabrina, who Chloe’d let anywhere near that place - worm eating dare or no worm eating dare - would be _you_.”

“Hmm, fair point. Though this being said I’d never agree to something as dis _taste_ ful as eating a worm anyway.”

Marinette groaned. She’d have to _pun_ ish him for t- god damn.

“You could always just jump in the ice pool instead. The chill might blast those crappy puns out of your system.”

A scandalised gasp from down the line.

“No thank you! I’d get in all sorts of trouble for an unauthorised hair-wetting. And I’ll have you know that my puns are top-notch!”

“Oh sure, sure they are,” she rolled her eyes good-humoredly. A brief pause. “So... Emergency, then.”

“Hmm?”

“I guess if I’m not family or work, then I must be an emergency. What’s up kit-” fuckshitdamnfuckfuckityfuck not again “k-kiddo?”

 

Sssssslick moves, ace. Ignore ignore ignore Adrien didn’t seem to notice-

 

“O-oh, right, um... See I was kind of wondering if we could… If we could pick up where we left off if that’s okay..?”

 

Marinette’s gut clenched.

 

“Advice, right?” Boy, she really hoped she didn’t sound as squeaky as she thought she did.

Adrien sighed.

“I-I’m really sorry to keep bringing this up but-”

“No don’t apologise, please, if it’s bothering you this much of course I’ll see if I can help it’s just that…”

“That?” Adrien said quietly while she chewed on words.

Marinette squirmed a little in her seat, pulling the inside of her cheek between her teeth.

“Okay, to be completely honest with you I’m not very good at this advice thing,” she grimaced. “It’s really kind of Alya’s forte but I’ll see what I can come up with… Um…”

“...so… Ah… What do you think I should do?”

“Asides from fleeing the country you mean.”

Adrien chuckled feebly. Damn, that was the easy way out.

 

Oh, what to do, what to do. Head over heels for two people at once, what on earth must that be like. Gee Marinette, what indeed. Maybe a verbal recap might help.

 

“So you met Subject A first, and Subject B is only a recent development, right? Well the romantic feelings anyway, you’ve known them about the same amount of time... You’ve been head over heels for A since you met her, pretty much, though she’d been keeping you at arm’s length since then. And then Subject B, who wasn’t even an option at that point largely in part to Subject A, kind of comes… Barrelling in about having feelings for you or whatever, and your friendship with her makes you seriously consider… Things.”

Adrien agreed somewhat distantly.

“So was it… Was it frustration? Having A be out of reach for so long that when B came along and was so interested and you’d always admired them anyway… Is it that something is better than nothing?”

The other line was silent while Marinette rambled on.

“I guess... On the one hand... That seems unfair to B.”

 

Unfair to Chat Noir, who’d unwittingly been dragged into some muddled-up bungle because Marinette had chickened out of a confession to another guy.

 

Marinette shut her eyes.

 

“I think… My advice would be… You’ve loved A since the beginning, but B is your friend. I think… I think B would understand.” She fired off mental apologies to the poor mystery girl. “B would understand, if B is as good a friend to you as you say she is, then she’ll be happy for you.”

 

“Huh,” breathed Adrien after a long moment. “That’s… That’s good advice, Marinette.”

“Really?” she gushed. “Oh my gosh I’m so glad to hear you say that because I totally made that up on the spot-”

“Alya would be very proud of you, I’m sure. Your friend counselling skills are exceptional.”

“Thanks Adrien,” she grinned.

“I, uh, it’s getting late. I should probably go, I’m keeping you up.”

Marinette’s eyes swivelled to the clock on the wall and she swore under her breath: 00:23!? On a school night - _crap_.

“O-oh, hahaaaa, yeah you’re right, we should- Bye,” she swallowed

“Goodnight! Oh, and… Thanks, Marinette.”

 

The line dropped.

 

“Goodnight,” she murmured, pushing her bangs away from her face as she leaned back in her chair, staring at the ceiling.

Adrien was right: that was good advice. Marinette let her words sink in: she needed to fix things. She needed to come clean, and tell everyone the truth. Well. Most of the truth anyway. She looked at the clock again: tomorrow, she thought firmly. She’d fix this tomorrow.

  
Then a distinct tapping noise from above nearly caused her to fall out of her chair: someone was knocking on her trapdoor.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *dramatic overture*

FUCK.

The steady (but mercifully quiet) rapping of knuckles on glass was unmistakable – each little tap struck her like a hammerfell and Marinette snapped in on herself, eyes wide with panic as they swivelled up to her ceiling. Oh god. Oh  _ god _ , she’d said to herself tomorrow, she’d deal with this  _ tomorrow _ , she wasn’t ready  _ now _ -

Marinette’s first instinct was, most unhelpfully, to hide.

Scrambling out of her chair with all the grace of a cat (ironically) dropped into a bath, she made a mad dash for the space under her ladder. Maybe if she was fast enough she could make it without being seen and he’d go away-

The knocking stopped and she froze. Caught.

With a resigned sort of keen, Marinette looked up. Chat Noir’s palm was pressed against the glass, glow-in-the-dark eyes crinkled in the corners with what she could guess was amusement – if the tiny quirk of the corner of his mouth was anything to go by. Great.

For a wild moment, she considered ignoring him.

By the time she’d decided that that course of action would be immensely satisfying and she should definitely give it a shot, Marinette had already climbed her ladder, unhooked the latch and was in the middle of pushing up the door. Crap.

The weight on her fingertips suddenly dissappeared as Chat Noir lent his strength to the cause, hoisting the thick glass above his head as if it were made of paper. Marinette stepped back a little, eyes flickering over her surprise guest thoughtfully, taking a moment to appreciate her fading panic and wonder why, actually, he’d come. Now of all times, but why indeed? Chat Noir hadn’t visited Marinette since… Since… Marientte bit her lip.

Chat Noir slipped through the gap and landed weightlessly onto the mattress, muscles visibly shifting beneath the suit as he braced the trapdoor above his head to shut it without a sound. He lowered his arms, pausing breifly in turning around to roll his shoulders – his very well-pronounced shoulders-

A single under-the-mask eyebrow slid up his forehead and Marinette snapped out of her ogling-induced stupor. Oops.

She felt a familiar rush of irritation at the resulting smirk that pinched his cheek, though she did notice that the expression was a little softer than usual. Well, she blushed angrily anyway. Angry she’d been caught awake, now caught checking out her partner. Not that he knew they were partners – still.

“Enjoying the view?” Chat Noir coupled the baiting quip with a slight incline of his head. His voice was low and quiet, and it did funny tickly things to Marinette’s innards. Chat didn’t even bother to hide the rather obvious trailing of his eyes up and down her figure: it was like being x-rayed, and it was very, very flattering.

Shaking herself, Marinette folded her arms around her middle and raised her chin defiantly. This was her house, her room: her home ground. Time to start playing like it. Because this was game… Right?

“I was just headed to bed,” she said: Chat paled and shuffled guiltily, the smirk dropping off his face as if he’d been slapped.

“O-oh,” he swallowed. “Sorry, I thought if I hurried I- I mean, your lights were still on so I thought you’d still be… I can go if you…”

Despite how the smug the boorish burr of competitiveness buried in the pit of her stomach felt about Chat’s immediate retreat, Marinette suddenly remembered her manners.

“Wait, no-“ Marinette felt him jump in surprise beneath her fingers when she gripped his elbow, stopping him mid-turn. He grew very still, blinking owlishly between her face and her hand: it took all of Marinette’s courage just to keep her fingers there, keep that flighty cat right where has was, and look him in the eyes. This was happening now, whether she wanted it to or not, so she’d better make the best of it. Go on, girl! She took a deep breath. “-it’s okay, uh, we’re really overdue a talk anyway… Unless there’s another reason you’re here or..?” Chat was shaking his head silently. “N-no? Oh.”  

Silence. Marinette unconsciously squeezed the arm in her grip.

“D’you… Want to sit?”

Chat Noir nodded stiffly and they busied themselves with shuffling around to get seated: Chat swinging his boots over the edge of the mattress and twisting his torso back to face her, Marinette settling cross-legged across the long plush cat at the top of the bed and pulling a pillow to her chest for moral support. Chat shyly brushed non-existent dirt from the duvet where his boots had stood prior - smart, Marinette thought dimly, something to distract himself with. All she had was this stupid pillow.  

“So-“ Chat Noir’s voice cracked and he coughed furiously to try and cover it up. Marinette dipped her chin beneath her pillow to hide her smile. “So, um, talking. About that thing. The other day. That we… Did. Up there.” Two pairs of eyes rolled in the direction of the infamous balcony above.

“Yes?” Marinette tried her hardest to sound gentle and encouraging (because he was doing a much better job of getting it out in the open than she would’ve done). It might’ve come out as more of a blurt, though.

Chat Noir sighed, gaze sliding over her face.

“Marinette,” he sounded a little pained. “You’re a wonderful person, I… And.. I really don’t want to… To trick you, or anything. I’d like to be sure that you know that.”

“Thanks?” Oh my god, shut up. Let him talk.

Her partner chuckled feebly. And then he continued: wow, he was doing really well, she was impressed (and oh so thankful that she didn’t have to say a word – praise the forces that be).

“What happened… Happened really quickly and I’m not sure… I don’t know how much of it was you-“ all of it “-and how much of it was me-“ Marinette’s breathing hitched “-but it happened anyway and I wanted to apologise-“ oh “-for my behaviour if I made you uncomfortable. A-and even if you were… Comfortable… Or, uh, well… I should’ve behaved better anyway. Regardless.”

Marinette stared.

He-

“…and I’m also  _ really _ sorry,” he continued, wincing slightly. “That it’s taken me this long to get back to you. That’s… Inexcusable behaviour and it probably made you feel… Not… Great.”

Chat Noir looked at her again. Imploringly, it seemed.

“Also I’ve… I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, a-and a lot of talking just now and I’d really like to know how you’re feeling about all of this before I say anything else. Please.”

She- oh, she was supposed to say something.

“W-w-well,” she stuttered, sinking back and into her pillows. Her face probably matched her bright pink wallpaper at this point – how was she feeling about all this? Marinette didn’t- Well she was confused as hell, she realised with a nasty jolt. She said she’d deal with this tomorrow, yes, but tomorrow was always such a long way off… The answer was supposed to just magically come to her in her sleep, not be surgically removed from her cracked-open ribs. God. “You- We- Th…”

She huffed, slamming her face into the pillow in her arms and squeezing, hoping to expel a coherent sentence out of her lungs by force. C’mon, Marinette.

He deserved to know the truth.

Guilt stabbed at her chest – he was sitting there trying to work through the awkwardness and try to figure out whatever it was she’d done to them and she couldn’t even…

“I should’ve told you from the start,” she mumbled defeatedly through layers of cotton. The corners of her eyes prickled- Get a  _ grip _ ! “I should’ve said…”

Marinette beat the sides of her head furiously with her fists, her self-flagellation rudely interrupted by a startled yelp and two warm hands snapping fast around her wrists.

“Don’t do th- Marinette! What?”

She whined, lifting her head and looking between the hands holding hers in the air beside her head and the look of alarm on Chat’s face. Oh, it was hopeless.

His eyes sharpened suddenly: something in her face must’ve given.

“What you heard… When I said that I… About you… I was talking about someone else.”

There.

She’d said it.

She’d expected to feel a little better about getting it out to be honest, oh well. Too late now.

Chat Noir blinked, his grip about her wrists loosening slightly in surprise.

“You’re in… With someone else?” he blurted, almost accusingly. Marinette’s hackles raised.

“W-well you too!” she stammered. “What about Ladybug?”

Chat turned bright red.

“Y-yeah, but you said-“ Chat chewed on his bottom lip, brow settling low in… Confusion? “Hang on, you definitely said- Who-?“

Again with Chat seeming to be privy to that entire disastrous conversation with Adrien –  _ how _ even..?

“T- None of your business!” spluttered Marinette, cheeks burning with embarrassment and awkwardness and what the hell was going on now. “Can we change the subject?!”

Marinette expected teasing and tugging and baiting comments as Chat Noir eventually pulled the truth out of her. Maybe she’d whack him with her pillow for that. That they’d sit there for another hour while she gushed about her crush on Adrien and Chat would laugh until he fell over when she told him about how exactly she’d mixed up her words, saying his name instead of Adrien’s when she was supposed to be confessing to the latter. Chat would make fun of her for a little bit, before offering her some top-quality advice in compensation. She might poke at him about Ladybug. That maybe, she had a sneaking suspicion, Ladybug might be a little bit more receptive to his advances if he tried just one more time. He’d ask her with poorly-concealed desperation what that meant, if she’d heard anything, and she’d tease him like he teased her. Eventually they’d part ways on jovial terms and everything would be back to normal.

So it took Marinette by complete and total surprise when Chat Noir ducked his head and carefully withdrew his hands.

“Of course,” he licked his lips. “Sorry, of course we can… That was rude. Sorry. Again. Still sorry.”

Thunderstruck, Marinette let her arms fall to her sides.

“So I guess that, uh, that’s the end of that!”

What?

Marinette blinked stupidly as Chat flashed her a tight smile that didn’t reach his eyes, climbing to his feet with a very obviously forced amount of gusto. Placing his hands on his hips, he offered her a wink that jarred horribly with the drooping tips of the cat ears atop his head. And his eyes- So sad, but bright bright bright. She’d seen those eyes before, but not in Chat Noir. Never Chat, unshakeable Chat. They caused an ache in the very core of her chest that burned like St. Elmo’s Fire because she never would have thought that that barely-suppressed misery would suit her partner. It suited him like he’d been carved from it.

“Right then Princess, you’d better get some slee-“

She didn’t even remember throwing herself across the mattress, nor did she remember leaping to her feet or grabbing a fistful of Chat’s belt to stop him in his tracks. By the time Marinette’s brain caught up with the rest of her she was standing nose to nose with Paris’ other Miraculous weidler. She was breathing a little heavier than normal, and it looked like he wasn’t breathing at all. And her hands were still balled in the the leather strung snug about his hips.

“I came here to tell you that… That while you’re… That I belong with Ladybug,” he whispered suddenly, eyes widening enough to make it clear that he hadn’t meant to have that punched out of him. “I hoped you’d turn me down so I wouldn’t have to tell you that but… I didn’t think… I didn’t think it would feel like it did when you did. That it’d… Hurt that much.”

Marinette searched his eyes. Green-coloured glowing coals of  _ sad _ , still, but… What was that? Doubt? Hope?

“I was going to tell you that I didn’t mean it,” she replied quietly. It - they both knew what “it” she was referring too. Thank god, because Marinette would’ve collapsed in a steaming heap of ash if she’d needed to say “it” again. Once had been disaster enough.

“ _ Did _ you mean it?” asked Chat Noir even more quietly, his lashes low as he- He was definitely staring at her lips.

Marinette exhaled slowly, purposefully, through her nostrils as she studied him. Chat watched her carefully, stock still beneath her feather-light fingertips as she trailed them up his front to brush the sides of his face. She kept them there, lingering while she rolled the words about in her mouth, trying to get a feel for them. Honesty was going pretty well for her this evening, so Marinette decided to keep the ball rolling. 

“I don’t know.

  
  


“...but… I think I’d like to find out.”

  
Who moved first she wasn’t sure, but one moment the air between them had been filled with Chat Noir’s breathless laughter (it held a strange quality to it - was it relief? Nervousness? Awe? Ah it didn’t matter) and the next there was no air left at all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Her hands flattened of their own accord against his cheeks while Chat Noir’s (Chat Noir’s, no one else’s) lips stretched beneath hers as he grinned. She’d be lying if she said she had no reservations about this and she was certainly going to freak out about it later, but right now Marinette’s heart was tapping out a staccato tattoo that she could feel from top to toe. Some part of her wanted this and had wanted it for a while now and she was damn-well pleased that whatever part it was seemed to be the 98% majority. And… Somewhere, beneath the waterfall of emotions (including but not exclusively delight, panic, giddiness, relief, pure unadulterated affection), it slowly dawned on her that-  
> “Chat,” she grumbled against his mouth. “Stop smiling, I’m trying to kiss you.” Kissing lips, she had decided, she much preferred over kissing teeth.   
> “M’sorry,” he mumbled back. “M’trying but I can’t stop smiling: you’re kissing me-” Marinette pulled her head back and leveled him with the most powerful glare in her arsenal.   
> “There,” she said, her voice lacking any shot of venom whatsoever. Damn. “I’ve stopped kissing you, so stop smiling.”  
> “Noooo!” Chat Noir’s fingers curled under her elbows. He tugged on her arms playfully, that stupid (adorable) lopsided grin on his face still glowing all-teeth in the dim light. “I’m trying my best I’m sorry! I’m trying!”  
> A wicked idea occurred to Marinette in that instant, and she thanked whatever deities there were that she had an infinitely better poker face than her partner.   
> “Fine,” she deadpanned.  
> Chat’s giggly whine of protest shut off like a tap when Marinette tipped her head and pressed her lips to the crease between his (real) ear and his jaw. She smirked against his skin. No more kissing… On the lips. That’ll teach him.  
> But then he made a funny shuddery sound, like the oxygen was being pummeled out of his lungs by a legion of exceptionally tiny and fast-moving fists, and her smile faltered. She glanced up in time to see Chat’s eyelids fluttering closed, his brow creased in concentration and his lips parting as he sucked in a sharp breath- 
> 
> Oh shit, she felt that like a kick to the gut.

**Author's Note:**

> waves arms


End file.
